


On Top of the World Like a Mullet

by TheVelvetCoatedWonder



Series: Advent Fic Giving 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Popstar, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Lyricist!Lance, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Singer!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVelvetCoatedWonder/pseuds/TheVelvetCoatedWonder
Summary: Keith is Altea's newest pop star, fresh from musical.ly with millions of fangirls eagerly awaiting his first original songs. Lance is his lyricist who's up to date on what perfect formula makes a pop song climb the charts. The only problem? Keith hates absolutely every song Lance writes for him- but doesn't quite hate the lyricist himself.~~~~Or alternatively, I thought Jacob Sartorius' song "Jordans" had lyrics containing the phrase "On top of the world like a mullet" and I'd been klancing it every time I heard it and when I found out I was mistaken I was so hurt I had to write this.





	On Top of the World Like a Mullet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [6licoricesticks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/6licoricesticks/gifts).



> LET ADVENT FIC GIVING BEGIN. All of these are for my sister, thank her for all of these. This particular one is born out of her ironic love for Jacob Sartorius and my uncanny ability to mishear his lyrics. Seriously, we have three of these ficlets planned bc I KEEP MISUNDERSTANDING HIM. Anyway, Keith is Jacob and Lance is whatever genius keeps spoon feeding this boy such catchy beats and current lyrics. 
> 
> If you're here from my main fic, hi! If this is your first time reading my fic, hi! Thanks for reading it! Oh! Also if you wanna know what song they're talking about just google jordans by jacob sartorius.

_“On top of the world like a mullet  
I love you like a fresh pair of Jordans,” _

“No way, I’m not singing that,” Keith’s arm shot out and stopped the recording before it could play any more of what was supposed to be his next song.

Next to him, Shiro eased back in his chair, sensing a fight coming on, “Now Keith,” he soothed, “It really isn’t that bad, you know it’s going to be current, which is what your branding is all about-”

“I don’t care about _current_ ,” Keith cut him off, “I care about the fact that _Lance_ , that STUPID lyricist, totally wrote this to make fun of me!”

The lyricist in question leaned back in his own chair across the table and crossed his arms behind his head, “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, a shit eating grin on his face, “I’m just writing what your fans want to hear.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Keith hissed, leaning over the table to grab Lance by the collar, “I told you I hated your shoes, and you decided to get back at me by writing this- this- this ode to Michael Jordan’s tennis shoes, and,” he pointed a finger in Lance’s face, who nearly went cross-eyed looking at it, “If you think for one second I missed the dig about my hair, _think again_ you Mexican noodle.” He let go of Lance and stormed towards the door. 

“It’s _not_ a mullet,” he shot over his shoulder, “It’s style.”

Shiro followed behind him, and Lance lasted as long as it took for the door to shut before he burst out in laughter, turning to Hunk and pushing his bangs flat against his forehead to mutter, “It’s _style_.”

Hunk glared half-heartedly at his long-time coworker and friend. “Lance, why do you antagonize Keith like this? You’re gonna put Shiro in a hospital bed before all this is over.”

Lance snorted and stood up, “I’ll keep doing it as long as that stuck up boy idol keeps refusing to admit he needs me.”

As the two headed toward the break room Hunk said, “But he doesn’t need you. Allura is the only reason you two work together. If she hadn’t assigned you to be Keith’s lyricist you literally wouldn’t even know he existed.”

“But she did put us together, he does know I exist, and his stupid, superior attitude will always make me wanna fight him.”

“Yeah,” muttered Hunk, “Fight him with your face.”

“First, Hunk, that doesn’t even make sense. Second, Hunk, fighting with your faces has got to be the worst metaphor for making out I’ve ever heard.”

“Just admit that you’ve fallen for his musical.ly charm and his emo boy band good looks and ask him to dinner. Shiro and I don’t get paid enough to put up with you two.”

Lance took his mediocre cup of coffee and headed to his studio to keep working on what was going to be Keith’s new song- whether he liked it or not. “The only thing that’s falling is Keith’s place in the charts if he doesn’t make this his next single.”

~~~~

Keith stood in the recording studio with Hunk, Shiro, and Lance all on the other side of the glass. Hunk sat at the mixing board, Shiro was tapping away on his tablet being the world’s best PA, and Lance had a hip cocked and arms crossed as he watched Keith get ready to start recording for his new single: Jordans.

The pop star had thrown his very best temper tantrum for Allura, but all he’d gotten was an unimpressed, “I brought you into this company to appeal to a preteen and teen girl internet demographic. Our lyricist for that demographic is Lance. Lance has made my company thousands and put multiple artists on the charts. He’s proven himself here, Keith, unlike you. So either you sing what he writes for you, or you go back to Vine until you learn how to songwrite.”

It may have sounded a bit harsh, but Allura had no patience when it came to the long-standing feud between Keith and Lance. So here he was, leaning in close to the mic, about to croon what was undoubtedly Lance’s worst creation yet.

Soon enough he had lost himself in the process, eyes closing and one hand coming up to cradle his headphones while the other moved in time to the beat of his lyrics. He owned exactly zero pairs of Jordans, and had next to no knowledge about basketball, but he figured that didn’t really matter. All he really needed to do was sing and shake his hips and make some smouldering eyes for the cameras and, according to Allura, he’d be well on his way to the Billboard Hot 100.

After the first round of recording, he came out and met the other three in the mixing room. Hunk was fiddling with the mix, while Shiro handed him a water bottle before excusing himself to make a phone call. 

Keith chugged the water before casually wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up to see Lance looking at him with a weird expression on his face.

“What?” Keith grunted.

Lance shook himself before grumbling, “Nothing.”

Hunk looked up at the two of them, “Hey Keith, this recording actually went really well today. If you two wanna head out, I’ve got what I need for today.”

Lance, always ecstatic for an early day, fist pumped and shouted, “Yes Hunk, this is why you’re best, bro!”

Keith, much more reserved, merely turned for the door and said, “I’ll tell Shiro.”

Lance followed him out, and when Keith told his manager the news, Shiro smiled politely before telling them he had a meeting with Allura, and could Keith find his own way home?

Keith nodded, not wanting to put Shiro out. The lyricist and singer left Altean Recording only to stand in front of the building, dismayed, as it was raining so heavily they could barely see the other side of the street. 

“No other choice,” Lance said, “I’ll have to call a cab. That sucks, I don’t have cash on me.”

Keith glanced at him before saying, “You can catch a ride with me.”

He regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth, as Lance blustered and said, “W-what? I don’t need you to pay for my ride home. I may not rake in the money a popstar does, but I’m not broke.”

Keith exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s not what I meant.”

The two stood in a stiff silence, watching for an empty cab. When one finally passed in front of the building, Keith’s arm shot out and he ducked inside as soon as it was stopped. He looked out at Lance, holding the door open, “You coming?”

Lance looked extremely unhappy, torn between standing in the rain and sharing a cab with Keith, but eventually he relented and slid in, both of them cozying up to opposite sides of the cab and bickering all the way to Lance’s apartment. When the cab pulled up in front of Lance’s stop, he hurried to get out, and when Keith moved to get out with him Lance looked extremely startled.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked Keith.

“Following you to your apartment. So you can give me money for the cab. Because you said you can afford your own cab and didn’t need me to pay for your ride home.” Keith said flatly.

Lance waved his hands in front of himself, “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary, not today thank you.”

Kaith crossed his arms, “Oh, so you can’t afford your own cab?”

Lance glared, “Of course I can!”

“Then pay for it! Unless you’re bluffing,” Keith said, defaulting to arguing with Lance even though he really didn’t care one way or another about the cab fare.

Lance looked torn again, but then he said, “Fine. But stand in my living room, and don’t. Touch. Anything.” 

He gestured with two fingers from his eyes towards Keith in an I’m-watching-you motion. Keith rolled his eyes, but followed the other boy to his apartment, and when Lance let him in he dutifully stood in the middle of the airy apartment and made no move to touch any of Lance’s belongings. Lance disappeared down a hallway, presumably to get cash. Keith shifted from foot to foot, growing impatient, when he heard a muffled thump and a yelp that could only have come from Lance.

“Lance?” He called out, slightly worried for the other’s safety.

“I-it’s nothing! I’m fine!” Lance yelled, before screeching again as another thumping sound resounded from deeper in the apartment. 

“Lance?” Keith called out again, this time heading towards Lance’s voice.

“No! I’m fine! Keith, don’t you care come in-”

Lance’s voice cut off as Keith entered his room, staring in disbelief at what he saw.

Lance’s room looked like any other normal bedroom, except for the fact that there were posters of Keith on every wall. His Sweatshirt promotional, the covers of all his EPs, his first album, photoshoots for teeny bopper magazines. Lance had them all, as well as CDs and all sorts of merchandise, some of which Keith himself didn’t even recognize.

He was stunned. “Wha-what-” he began, but a muffled groan from Lance, who was buried under a pile of magazines with Keith’s face plastered on them and a large body pillow that had- was that a cartoon version of himself?- stopped him from finishing his question.

“I know, I know,” Lance started, voice small and looking a little sheepish, “It’s pretty pathetic that I… I’m a fan of yours… when your whole thing is just engineered to ensnare lonely teenagers. But,” His face shot up from beneath the pile of Keith-themed paraphernalia, “No one else can do what you do! I’ve worked with tons of artists who’ve tried to market your type of brand, and no one else is- is as passionate? Or, like, no one else takes it as seriously? Like, I can totally tell you care a lot about your music and all your fans, and even though you always whine and complain about the songs I write for you, you know your fans will love them and so you sing them anyway, even though you’d rather be singing Panic! At the Disco or My Chemical Romance- Don’t give me that look Keith, you know it’s true- and I just- I just- I really love you, okay?”

Lance cut off suddenly, cheeks flaring red as he realized what he’d said. “N-not like that! It’s just, I love your music, or er, your singing voice, and uh, the feeling you bring to your brand- yeah, that’s it...”

Keith knelt down in front of Lance, pulling him up so they were sitting face to face.

“Lance?” he said softly.

“Yeah,” the other whispered back, red blooming across his cheeks as he looked into Keith’s eyes.

“I think it’s- all this,” Keith said, gesturing to the room, “Is cute. I think you’re cute. You’re like, my biggest fan, yeah?”

Lance’s face looked ready to explode. “Y-yeah, I mean, when you first came into the company I _knew_ you’d be popular, I told Allura-” 

Keith cut him off with a soft kiss, “That you and me together make a dream team?”

Lance glared at him, “I knew I should never have given you any love songs.”

Keith just kissed him again and wondered just how many songs he’d sung that Lance had written while thinking of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Cute right? idk man this is just what my sis and I talk about while chilling in the kitchen at ten pm eating left overs, ya know? Anyway, happy holidays, leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it, and subscribe if you want other one shot aus in a similar style. Be prepared for pining and escapades, in that order.


End file.
